into which the shepherd can gather his flocks, trusting to his dogs to scent the approach of a wild animal and to awaken him.  Go first and I’ll follow thee, and Jesus crawled till the rocks opened above him and he stood up in what Paul described as a bowel in the mountain; a long cave it was, surely, twisting for miles through the darkness, and especially evil-smelling, Paul said.  Because of the bats, Jesus answered, and looking up they saw the vermin hanging among the clefts, a sort of hideous fruit, measuring three feet from wing to wing, Paul muttered, and as large as rats.  We shall see them drop from their roosts as the sky darkens and flit away in search of food, Jesus said.  Paul asked what food they could find in the desert, and Jesus answered:  we are not many miles from Jericho and these winged rats travel a long way.  In Brook Kerith they are destructive among our figs; we take many in traps.  Our rule forbids us to take life, but we cannot lose all our figs.  I’ve often wondered why we hesitate to light bundles of damp straw in these caves, for that is the way to reduce the multitudes, which are worse than the locusts, for they are eaten; and Jesus told stories of the locust-eating hermits he had known, omitting, however, all mention of the Baptist, so afraid was he lest he might provoke Paul into disputation.  See, he said, that great fellow clinging to that ledge, he is beginning to be conscious of the sun setting, and a moment after the bat flopped away, passing close over their heads into the evening air, followed soon after by dozens of male and female and many half-grown bats that were a few months before on the dug, a stinking colony, that the wayfarers were glad to be rid of.  But they’ll be in and out the whole night, Jesus said, and I know of no other cave within reach where we can sleep safely.  Sometimes the wild cats come after them and then there is much squealing.  But think no more of them.  I will roll up my sheepskin for a pillow for thee, and sleep as well as thou mayest, comrade, for to-morrow’s march is a long one.

CHAP.  XXXIX.

It was as Jesus had said, the bats kept coming in and going out all the night through, and their squeakings as they settled themselves to sleep a little before dawn awakened Paul, who, lifting his head from the sheepskin that Jesus had rolled into a comfortable pillow for him, spied Jesus asleep in a corner, and he began to ask himself if he should awaken Jesus or let him sleep a little while longer.  But myself, he said, must escape from the stifle of this cave and the reek of the bats, and, dropping on his hands and knees, he crawled into the air.

It was a great joy to draw the pure air into his lungs, to drink a deep draught, and to look round for a wild cat.  One may be lurking, he said, impatient for our departure, and as soon as we go will creep in and spring among the roosts and carry off the flopping, squeaking morsel.  But if a cat had been there licking her fur, waiting for the tiresome wayfarers to depart, she would have remained undiscovered to Paul’s eyes, so thick was the shadow, and it was a long time before the valley lengthened out and the rocks reassumed their different shapes.